The Butterfly Dream
The Butterfly Dream.
A bit obscure, I danced
within the rhythms of the wind cords.
Jovial, buoyant.
While I sing the gifted nature,
I saw me;
skilled with urbane speech
with ability to cultivate things.
Most condescending, my capability to think.
I was still,
still in turbulence of breeze,
while my thoughts run wild as winds.
I saw a butterfly, dancing.
Oh! It was me
– flitting and fluttering.
Happy within myself,
doing what I please.
Was I dancing, or was I still?
–“the transformation of things.”
Thin ice between reality and appearance,
truths and illusions.
Until I realize it’s a mirror,
one with its own-self,
once awake, ‘I’ turning into another.
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